


Recovery

by ETraytin



Category: The West Wing
Genre: And Ignoring the Incalculable Weirdness of Time, And There's Cussing, Discussions of Racist Violence, Gen, Post ITSOTG, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:18:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ETraytin/pseuds/ETraytin
Summary: It takes time for things to go back to normal after the shooting at Rosslyn. Donna looks after Josh, and Josh looks after Charlie, in his own inimitable way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Today's fic is actually a double prompt fill, from a pair of Anonymi. Anonymous 1 asked for "Josh is sick and Donna takes care of him." Anonymous 2 asked for "A Charlie/Josh fic, them dealing with the events of the shooting. Charlie had to have felt guilty." (I chose to interpret that as nonromantic slashies, sorry if it disappoints, Nonny!)
> 
> I want to thank all of you again for your feedback and comments, I had a phenomenal day yesterday in terms of people reading my work and leaving comments, and it made me feel happy all over. You're all the best, and I'm glad you're still reading even after five weeks of this craziness.

“Ow! Dammit, Donna, knock it off! Aren't you done yet?” Josh stared up at the ceiling, steadfastly averting his eyes even as he complained. He'd made the mistake of looking once, back in the hospital. Not doing that again, not until there was nothing at all to see. 

“I'd be a lot faster if you could stop squirming around for a fraction of a second.” Despite a bit of irritation and a bit of nerves in Donna's voice, her hands were cool and gentle as she secured the last bits of tape around his bandage. “This would be a lot easier if you'd just let me shave your chest.” 

“I'm not shaving my chest!” he squawked, distracted for a moment by the idea. “I have lost enough of my masculinity already, thank you, I'm not giving away any more of it.” 

“You're still very masculine, Josh,” she assured him, and god help him, he couldn't tell if she was flirting or humoring him. He and Donna had always walked a thin line, but under the circumstances, the only safe way to take it was as humor. “There, you're all done.” She gave the bandage that covered half his chest a gentle pat. 

“It itches,” he complained, shifting again. “I think I'm allergic to the tape.” 

“You haven't been so far,” she reminded him unsympathetically, “but I guess we'll know if you break out in hives. How's your head?” She moved her hand up to rest it against his forehead. That felt really good, nice and cool. 

“Stuffy,” he complained, mostly for the hell of it. Coming down with a head cold was pretty much the least of his problems, until and unless it got him coughing too hard. But it was just one more addition to his considerable list of physical discomforts. 

“I'll make you some more tea,” she promised, then stuck the thermometer in his mouth. He made a protesting noise, but refrained from spitting it out, because he was a dignified adult man with self-control, no matter how infantile he'd been made to feel this past three weeks. At least here in his own home he could walk around a little and use his own bathroom, and instead of a phalanx of nurses, he just had Donna and sometimes Sam bossing him around. It was a substantial improvement, even if he kept complaining about it. The thermometer beeped, and Donna took it out to hum over it. 

“What does it say?” 

“Ninety-nine eight,” she told him with a thoughtful grimace. “You're still okay so long as it doesn't get over 101. Keep resting and pushing the fluids today, and don't use the top blanket unless you have to.” 

“Okay, Doctor Moss,” he quipped sarcastically, then frowned when she got up and began tidying things away. “Hey, you're not leaving yet, are you?” 

“I have to get to work,” she reminded him. “Somebody's got to whip the assistant deputies into shape or they'll just wander around all day, harassing the assistants and stealing office supplies.” 

Josh certainly couldn't deny that, but he didn't have to like it. “You're coming back at lunchtime, right?” he demanded. 

“That's right,” she confirmed. “And Charlie will be stopping by this morning to keep you company for awhile, so try to overcome your charming nature and be nice to him.” 

“I'm always nice,” he insisted. “And charming! Besides, Charlie already knows me, I don't think he's gonna be fooled.”

“He's having a rough time,” Donna reminded him with a quelling look. “This has all been really hard on him.” She brought over a shirt, one of his old button-downs that was too soft and faded to wear to work anymore. 

“Well, it's been pretty hard on me, too,” Josh pointed out, sticking his arms into the sleeves and letting her ease it up over his shoulders.. “Seeing as how I'm the one who got shot and everything.” 

She pointed at him. “See, right there, that's something that maybe you should avoid saying to Charlie. He feels guilty enough already. Just be nice to him, okay?” 

“What the hell does he feel guilty for?” Josh asked. Donna glanced pointedly at his chest as she did up his buttons. “Are you kidding me?” 

She shrugged. “They were aiming at him, but they hit you and the President instead. He hasn't come out and said it, but I think most of him wishes they hadn't missed their target.” 

“That is the stupidest, most asinine, idiotic-” Josh began, but Donna cut him off. 

“And this from the king of misattributed guilt?” she countered 

“I'm Jewish, it's my cultural heritage,” he retorted with a glare, but he had to admit she might have something of a point. At least feeling guilty gave the illusion of control, that there was something he could've done to change things, rather than simply being a victim of fate. “I'll talk to him,” he promised her. “I'll be nice. And in return you will bring me a cheeseburger and fries.” 

“I will bring you grilled chicken and a salad.” 

“Cheeseburger, no fries.” 

“Hamburger, no fries. But I'll make sure it's well done.” 

“Fine,” he agreed with a sigh, but inside he was rather pleased with himself. Donna was being a bit of a martinet about her rules, including the healthy eating rule, so any time he managed to buck one was cause for celebration. Sure, technically he was her boss and also an adult human being of sound mind. He could've said screw the rules and ordered himself five cheeseburgers and chili fries delivered, but that would upset her. And considering the way she'd put her life on hold for the past three weeks to take care of him, upsetting her was the last thing he ought to be doing. 

Before she left, Donna helped him get to the bathroom (she waited outside; Josh wasn't that badly off, thank god) and then settled him on the couch in front of the television, with stern warnings not to watch more than half an hour of news. That was one rule where what Donna didn't know wouldn't hurt her, so he happily channel-surfed over to C-SPAN and yelled at the talking heads for awhile. 

A noise at the front door had Josh guiltily fumbling the remote control, but it was Charlie's voice, not Donna's. “Hey Josh? Donna gave me her key, can I come in?” 

“Yeah, come on in.” Josh lay back on the couch, a little relieved that he wasn't going to have to try and lever himself up and get to the door. Donna was scary in her thoroughness sometimes. 

Charlie walked in, looking more reluctant and uncomfortable than Josh had seen him since the day he'd basically been dragooned into working for President Bartlet. Right now, Charlie looked about two-thirds ready to run away and actually become a bike messenger. “Hey, how you feeling?” he asked Josh. 

“Not too bad, considering,” Josh replied easily. “I have a cold. What'd you bring me?” 

Charlie reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small white box. “Presidential-seal M&Ms.” 

Josh feigned disappointment. “Those are less impressive when we actually work in the White House, you know.” 

Charlie shrugged. “They're still M&Ms.” 

“Good point,” Josh conceded. “Give over, and have a seat. There's stuff in the fridge, but I have no idea what. No beer, though. Donna is a harsh warden.” 

“She probably needs something stronger after dealing with you,” Charlie muttered, sitting down in the recliner near the couch. 

Josh, being the bigger man, pretended he hadn't heard that slander. “She also won't give me any work to do. I should've asked you to smuggle some in. She's already put the fear of God into Sam and he won't help me.” 

Charlie immediately shook his head. “Nuh-uh, no way. Donna's been scary at work since you've been gone. If she hears I've been sneaking work to you, I'll never be seen or heard from again.” 

“You know I'm technically the boss of both of you, right?” Josh pointed out sourly. “Like, I directly hired you both and everything.” 

“Donna's got the First Lady on her side,” Charlie informed him soberly. “And Zoey too. I would have no peace in that building, not for a moment.” 

Josh found it hard to decide if he were more proud of Donna's astute strategic planning, obviously learned by watching him, or annoyed that she'd so adroitly outmaneuvered him. If she had Zoey and the First Lady, it was a lock that she had CJ and the rest of the Sisterhood on her side as well, which was everybody from Mrs. Landingham and the assistants to most of the brighter female interns, to his own female assistant deputies. They were rarely in complete agreement, but one didn't go against the unanimous accord of the Sisterhood without dire consequences. “Dammit. I really need to get back in there and get this straightened out.” 

“You've still got what, two more months?” Now Charlie was looking guilty again. 

“So they say.” Josh waved that off. “I figure a couple of weeks to get me back on my feet, I'll make them fit me with one of those scooters they give old guys with broken hips, and I'll be fine. They didn't operate on my brain, for god's sake.” 

“Nah, just your chest, with your heart stopped, for fourteen hours.” Charlie didn't seem to be too thrilled with Josh's plan to resume work. “While we were waiting to see if you'd live at all. I don't think you're gonna find a lot of popular support for coming back to work early, even if Donna will let you.” 

“Sam and Toby need me.” 

“They're a lot more likely to listen to your doctor than you are. Also, Ginger and Bonnie would kill them.” Charlie pointed out. “Neither of those guys can even type. They're basically helpless.” 

“Dammit!” Josh thudded his head back softly against the arm of the sofa. “This sucks.” 

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed. “It never should've happened to you.” His voice was heavy. 

“It shouldn't have happened to anybody,” Josh countered. “But sometimes people are psychopathic assholes.” 

“It was all because they saw me and Zoey together,” Charlie continued, looking down at the floor. “If I hadn't been there, nobody would've gotten hurt.” 

“Well that's some bullshit,” Josh said, keeping his voice deliberately mild. “You really think they would've gone to all that trouble, set up their freaking last stand, just to call it off because you weren't there that night? You think they wouldn't have been just as happy to take out a Jew? Or the father who let his daughter date a black man? You think they wouldn't have taken some shots at Zoey if you weren't there throwing yourself on top of her?” 

“If I hadn't dated Zoey in the first place, none of it would've happened at all!” Charlie exclaimed harshly. “I've dealt with fuckers like that all my life, I know how to keep my head down and not pick a fight. Dating the President's white daughter was like raising a middle finger to every racist asshole in the country. I should've known somebody was going to get hurt.” 

“Hey!” Josh's voice was sharp now. “I don't know about you, but I didn't come to the White House to keep my head down. We're here to make a difference, and that means standing up. And hell, I feel a little better about the pain and the physical therapy and Donna bossing me around if I can at least feel like a walking fuck-you to a bunch of racist assholes.” He studied Charlie for a moment. “How's Zoey doing?” 

“She's scared,” Charlie admitted, lacing his fingers together between his knees. “She almost lost her dad and her honorary big brother. I don't think either of us know where to go from here.” 

“What does the Secret Service say?” Josh could have all the ideals he wanted, but even he knew that security concerns would rule the day for a long time when it came to Zoey. 

“They've got concerns.” Charlie's voice made the word rich with sarcasm. “The size of her detail's been increased for now, and she's living in the Residence for the rest of the summer and the fall semester. They've asked us to avoid places with too many people.” 

“That sucks,” was all Josh could say. 

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed heavily. “She's scared of crowds right now anyway. We haven't done very much since... since. Mainly we just stay up in the Residence and watch movies or whatever.” 

“Maybe you could bring her over here sometime,” Josh suggested. “I haven't seen her since I got out of the hospital, and at least you could watch a movie without her parents right there.” He grinned. “Tell her I miss her dumb cow face. She'll get it.” 

“I'll take your word on that,” Charlie told him, smiling just a little. “I'm definitely not passing it along without attribution” He looked at his watch. “I'd better get going, Donna made me promise no more than half an hour. Plus, you know, leader of the free world needing stuff and all. Can I get anything for you before I go?” 

“Will you get me a beer?” Josh asked hopefully. 

Charlie laughed as he stood. “I'll buy you one in nine more weeks.” 

“You're whipped, Charlie.” 

“That's pretty rich, coming from you.” Charlie shot back. He tossed Josh another two boxes of M&Ms, which was not too bad a haul, really. Plus Charlie was smiling now and acting more normal around him, so that was a job well done.

“Hey, at least I'm not getting bossed around by my girlfriend,” Josh pointed out smugly. Being whipped by one's assistant was much preferable, at least to his mind. If Donna were his girlfriend... well, his mind tried to go in several different directions at once there, and that was uncomfortable. Things would be a lot different.

Charlie gave him a completely impenetrable look. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” He took one more look around and headed for the door. “I'll see you later. Try and listen to the doctors, okay? They've kept you alive this long.” 

“If I started listening now, they'd wonder what was wrong with me,” Josh scoffed. “Go see if you can find somebody to bring me some actual work. Or do some work yourself, whichever.” 

It wasn't until after Charlie left that Josh realized he'd dropped the remote in his haste earlier, leaving him both without a means to change the channel, and with the TV stuck on some morning telenovela without any subtitles. He watched that for a little while, because it was easier than trying to get up, then gave up and fell asleep to wait for Donna. She'd fix it.


End file.
